


Letters to Apollo

by cornishpixieprincess



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-21
Updated: 2013-04-21
Packaged: 2017-12-09 03:31:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/769482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cornishpixieprincess/pseuds/cornishpixieprincess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire sends letters about how he feels to Enjolras.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Letters to Apollo

**Author's Note:**

> So this came from something I wrote a while ago which was incredibly embarrassing, but then I found it again today and thought that I could use it.  
> Also there is sex at the end of this and I have never written a sex scene before so please don't judge me for it's crappyness.

_I love you. I’ve loved you for too long. It started out that we were friends. We sat next to each other. You were nice. We talked over the internet, through text and face to face, you were sweet, funny, and downright scary at times. And I guess I was too. I was confused about our friendship. I mean, I enjoyed us being friends. But I always thought about you. I found myself becoming more aware of you, when you walked down the corridor, When you were talking to your friends on the other side of the room. I tried to act causally. Not to stare. Not to do anything stupid. Obvously it didn’t work and somehow we ended up arguing. We always argued. I never thought that Apollo would have been so fucking stubborn. Even when I found out that you liked somebody else. I still liked you. I was confused about how I felt still, and when you told me, I felt like I was going crazy, and I didn’t know why. But I knew that you liked her. And I loved you for liking her. She was beautiful, you could never meet a more beautiful person, or somebody who deserved to be liked by any boy more. I decided that night. That I was happy for you to like her. Happy for you to be happy. Surely that would mean that I would stop liking you in that way. Yet it did not. We still talked our conversations getting longer and far more interesting, far scarier as well. I don’t know exactly where like, turned to love. But it did. There were times when I felt like I was going crazy. And there were times when I tried to convince myself that I didn’t care. There were times when I just considered telling you. But I could not. It would ruin us, as we are now. And I value our friendship too much to lose it. One day, I’ll break. One day, I won’t be able to be strong anymore. One day, I will break down in front of everybody, and you will wonder ‘why’ well the most likely reason is because of you. Because I love you, and you just see me as a friend, it’s like cancer, one cell got mutated, and then it spread. The closer I get, the more I fall. And although, you cannot see, you cannot see past the smile on my face. The more I fall, the weaker I get. The more I fall, the more I tear my heart into little pieces. I guess what I’m trying to say is ... I love you, even if you don’t love me, know that I love you._

* * *

_Apollo,_

_And now love does not exist. There is no such thing as love, not to me anyway. I look at the world and I see nothing that even remotely resembles true love to me. I am speaking about true love only, there are some kinds of love that I see every day. Like the love of a parent for their child, or the love that a friend has for a friend, the love of a subject or an item, like a certain song, or a certain book. Of course those kinds of love exist. True love however does not. People will say that people who have spent their lives together are truly in love, but I know that love cannot be limited to a certain age. Some people will say that true love is unrequited, but how can it be love if the other person does not feel that way? What I see when I look at the world, is a world of longing, and need, a world where words like love are over used, a world where true love has lost its meaning. To a degree where no-body knows what it is anymore. True love is undefined. A dictionary says that love is a deep emotional attachment to someone. To me that just says to want a person. To have lust for a person. Jehan says that it’s what makes us human beings, having the ability to love. But Jehan’s life revolves around love. For me, love has gone. I cannot see it, hear it or feel it. For me, I have lost love._

* * *

 

_Apollo,_

_So it’s been a year. One whole year since those feelings appeared to me. I don’t know what to think anymore, and I have no idea about how I feel. And I still feel for you. I just wish that you’d notice what I’ve done for you! I’ve done everything I possibly could! Joined your cause, protected people I barely knew, fought for ungrateful people who didn’t even thank us. I even backed off when you said you were in love, I let you be. I could see how much you liked her. So I kept my distance. I stayed away, for your sake. I’m not sure why though now. What was the point? You were, and always have been oblivious. There are times when see you and you are looking at me. But I doubt that you know how I feel. And I seriously doubt that you feel the same way as me. I know that I should start talking to you again, in the way that we used to, not this stupid bickering about things that are not important. But have conversations which go on until the earlier hours in the morning, which make us both laugh, and enjoy each other’s company. But I just can’t. One day I will. One day. Life is moving on though. And there are less and less chances to fix what went wrong. The more time that passes the further away from each other we move. The more you just look at me with disappointment. And the less you say to me. I still do not believe in love, but what I feel must be close enough to it. One day I’ll get over it, and you. One day I’ll move on. One day, you’ll have forgotten all about me. But I can never forget about you, believe me I’ve tried. What else can I say? I think I love you? I don’t know. I don’t even know anymore._

* * *

_Are you determined to haunt me Apollo?_

_I know that you know that it’s mine._

_After all of these years you have to come back. Just when I’ve forgotten you. (_

_I’m glad that you took my advice though)_

* * *

 

**I don’t believe for one second that you’ve forgotten. And yes I did know.**

* * *

_I hate you. You’re not allowed to do this to me. Not now._

* * *

 

**You’re not allowed to send me a group of letters telling me that you love me and not expect me to then tell you my response, or not let me speak to you. How else was I meant to get your attention?**

**Also I happened to like the picture.**

* * *

_Of course you liked it. It was about the revolution._

_You needed to know. Also if you were going to respond why not sooner rather than later? And if it wasn’t clear, I don’t want your response. I don’t need it. I know what it is, and I doubt it’s changed._

_Loved*_

* * *

**You’re right. I did need to know.**

**Why now ... because you disappeared for five years, and then I found that you had an exhibition and that you’re selling your art. You supported me, and I wanted to support you. And I will say it again, I liked the piece. It reminded me of you, and I miss you.**

**I don’t believe you.**

* * *

_Thanks for returning the favour._

_What’s not to believe?”_

* * *

**You wouldn’t have written if you had let it go.**

**Also your hair suits you shorter. When did you come back home?**

* * *

_When did you see me?_

_I never left. Not permanently._

* * *

**Am I right then? You haven’t let it go, you’re just trying to convince ... I don’t know who you’re trying to convince, me, or yourself.**

**A few days ago, the day I sent the last letter. You were walking somewhere (I presume home) with a bag of shopping.**

**If you never left why haven’t I seen you around? It would have happened at some point.**

* * *

_You’re very clearly not an artist dear Apollo. You don’t understand that once you start a piece, you lose track of everything and are lost in your work. I also took advice from Eponine about how to be invisible._

_I don’t think it matters who I am trying to convince. Apparently it’s not working either way._

* * *

**Now you’re haunting me.**

**If you want to see me then tell me. Do not do that again. It was unfair in every way.**

**No I am not an artist.**

**And no you’re not convincing anyone.**

* * *

_My sincerest apologies for distracting you Apollo. I did not realise that my presence at your political campaign to the downtrodden would be so distracting. I happened to be around, and I wanted to see if you’re work was any good. For the record I was impressed._

_I’ve already seen you._

* * *

**I want to see you. And I mean properly. Not just by chance on a street, or at a campaign.**

**I’ve already told you that I miss you.**

~~**And I love you** ~~

* * *

**I’m sending this now and I will probably regret this but you seem to be completely ignoring me now, and I wonder if you worked out what the crossed out section said. If you did ... I meant it. I meant every word of it. I love you Grantaire. I always have.**

**You said in your first letter to me that you were confused about our friendship. But you were never my friend. I never wanted to confuse the lines of friendship and love, or lust as you see it. I wanted to know you, to be sure. But you never were just my friend. You were something more. Even then.**

**But then, as you’ve said more times than I can count that I’m stubborn. And I refused to admit that I loved someone other than Patria. So I ignored the feelings and did nothing about them hoping that they’d go away. And the fact that I didn’t want to be in love, I wanted to be entirely focused on the cause, and then you appeared and I had feelings for you, and I’d already, without realising, gotten to know you and was past the stage where we could be friends.**

**So I ignored it. It was the worst thing I could possibly do. But I made it very clear to you that I was in love with Patria and Patria alone (I lied) and ignored the feelings towards you.**

**Then you told me that you were leaving and all I could feel was pain, and guilt. Guilt for not telling you how I felt, even then. And pain because I thought that you didn’t feel the same way, and then you had just given me proof.**

**I won’t talk about after you left. If you want to know ask Combeferre, or Courfeyrac, or Jehan, or Joly, or anyone. They’ll be able to tell you better than I could. (I assume that you still speak to them, even if they don’t tell me.)**

**I’m also not going to talk about the letters that you sent ... The group of letters explaining your feelings ... All you need to know is that I couldn’t get your words out of my head for the next few years. They haunted me, rather like you are now, and I hated you for making me feel so guilty, and hurt, and feel so much for you, and at this point, unable to even fix it.**

**I said that I hated you. But in truth I am as unable to hate you, as you are to hate me.**

**Yet you came back. And you refused to even contact me (rather like the way that you’re now ignoring me). That was possibly the cruellest thing that you’d ever done, it made everything that I’d felt for years so much worse, because you had moved on. At least so I’d though. So it became a game of my trying to get your attention. You noticed. You hadn’t moved on. There’s still hope. There always was.**

**And now we’re here.**

**I don’t know what else I can say. I love you Grantaire. I love you. And you love me. That much is clear. So what are we doing?**

* * *

When Enjolras gets home late on Friday there is someone in his flat. Someone stood in his living room holding a letter tightly in his hand.

“You didn’t move your spare key.” He says in a neutral voice.

Enjolras only stares at him.

“You don’t change Apollo, do you?”

Enjolras cannot answer.

Grantaire closes his eyes and lets out a breath. “What do you want from me?”

“I want you. I want you and only you.” He takes a step towards Grantaire with every word. And then they’re face to face. He kisses his lips softly and murmurs ‘I want this, and every single part of you.’ And then there are no more words. Only hard open-mouthed kisses.

They’re moving backwards until Grantaire’s back is against a wall and Enjolras is pulling the t-shirt that he’s wearing, over his head and throwing it away from them. Grantaires response is to remove the suit that Enjolras has been wearing to work, but he only gets as far as unbuttoning his shirt before they’re moving towards Enjolras’s bedroom.

More items of clothing are discarded along the way. By the time they get there, they are naked breathing heavily. Yet they do not stop. Not when they’ve both wanted this for so long. It’s Grantaire who pushes Enjolras onto the bed, and moves to put his mouth around Enjolras’s cock. It’s very clear, from the way Grantaire moves that he’s done this before, and Enjolras is unable to stop himself from moaning in pleasure. His hand finds its way to Grantaire’s head and is gripping the dark curls. When he’s getting close he pulls on Grantaire’s hair and pulls him up to kiss him, before flipping them over and grinding their hips together.

They end up simply rutting against each other, and that’s how they find release, gasping, moaning and rutting, mouths still moving against each other, muffling their moans. Enjolras is unable to stop a small scream when he comes, and a couple of seconds later Grantaire is biting down on his shoulder as he also comes. They fall asleep holding each other, not wanting to let the other go. Later, Enjolras thinks before he falls asleep, there will be time for them to take time. But for now this is enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Like I said, I've never written sex before. So my apologies for the shittiness of it.  
> I


End file.
